Flying with the Rich and Famous: True Stories from the Flight Attendant who flew with them (15 page)

The bartender was in no mood and wanted to close up, so we went to explore this unknown little paradise. We had barely even looked at our accommodations. We went down to the water and stuck our toes in and marveled at how warm it was and how beautiful the entire setting was. It was tranquil, so very tranquil. It seemed like a place that was lost in time, raw and unspoiled. We couldn’t wait to get out on the beach the next day.

After finishing what was left of our Smashers, we all three went to look at the condominiums. Mine was huge. When you walked in, there was a small but full-size kitchen to the immediate left and a dining room table directly in front. Beyond the dining table was a giant living room with sliding glass doors that opened to the ocean. To the left of the living room was a
large separate bedroom and extra large bathroom.

I was standing in the entry and the pilots had gone to check the place out. Directly in front of me was that dining room table. Atop it was a glass with fresh flowers. I looked at that glass, pulled out the flowers and ran to my most beloved pilot and dumped the water over his head. He stood there dumbfounded. Unbeknownst to me, the other pilot had gone into the kitchen, grabbed a pitcher, filled it up with water and threw it all over me. Let the fighting begin, a war was-a-brewing!

My little glass incident escalated into a full blown water fight—a water fight of mammoth proportions. Nothing that held water was unused. Trashcans became coveted artillery.

We ran from condo to condo, hid in closets, propped plastic glasses over doors, it was war—and it was hilarious! We got so carried away I couldn’t even sleep in my bed because it was too wet. I had to sleep on the couch. The next day, feeling surprisingly wonderful, we went to sit on the beach. It was such a beautiful beach with some of the whitest sand I had yet to see
and warm, bathtub-like water. We laughed and laughed, reminiscing about the night before. I went in the water and somehow got a crab inside my bikini bottom and it bit me about twenty times. Flying home, it was all I could do not to scratch my butt.

Mykonos, Greece

One of my all time favorite days happened in Greece. Paradise Beach is a fabulous beach on the island of Mykonos. This beach has everything: sand that doesn’t stick to you—it’s more like microscopic pebbles, crystal clear warm water and mouth-watering fresh vine-ripened produce to go with the most delicious gyros I’ve ever enjoyed. There was ambience all around with people playing board games in the shade and upbeat yet relaxing music in the background. There were exceptionally friendly and good-looking people that seemed genuinely content without a care in the world, except for maybe which delightful entrée to have for lunch that day - and of course, women with no tops on and a large gay population.

After striking up a conversation with a local who lay next to me on the beach, I was invited on a boat for a day trip to an uninhabited island and volcano caves. I had a feeling that another escapade was about to unfold. There were fourteen people from eight different countries speaking six different languages. Italian/Spanish became the conduit language, it wasn’t perfect but it sort of worked through the chain of communication. Although, we really didn’t communicate well, it wasn’t hugely necessary because what we saw that day left everyone speechless.

The caves, accessible only by boat, were spectacular. The water inside the caves was almost transparent. Abundant sea life was everywhere you looked in every hue. The natural beauty in those caves was indescribable. All six languages were indeed amazed. It was like diving into an animated movie, only this was real. We ate sea urchin, which I don’t recommend, salty-yuck, that was pulled right out of the water. We swam and climbed on the rocks while our guide shared his passion of the sea with us, in
English!

The only thing to drink on the boat was warm screwdrivers or warm Coors. After the caves, almost everyone decided that a screwdriver was just what we needed to toast our newfound paradise. Then we sped off to another beautiful beach on an island, again - only accessible by boat. We explored the island while our guide prepared our barbecued lunch. That was the best barbecue because everything is so fresh in Mykonos. By this time, no one was feeling any pain from the drinks, and we somehow ended up in a colossal sand fight. I mean colossal! That was another adventure that just sort of happened —must have been the booze! Then we ate and passed out on the beach until our guide awakened us for the trip back. That day will always remain one of the top five days in my life—you know what I mean, days when you are so appreciative you’re alive.

Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

It seemed that when I was busy, I was extremely busy and when I was slow, I was dead. I guess that’s kind of the way
of the world. I was asked to do a five-day charter to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. No matter how beat up and tired you are, turning down a Cabo San Lucas trip is just nuts. It’s a short flight and a great destination. My passengers turned out to be a group of eight guys going deep-sea fishing..

The chief passenger was a friend of one my owners and I had flown him before. He had just received some sort of windfall and had not only chartered the jet, but a sixty-four foot sport fishing boat, as well. These were great guys, and so much fun it resembled nothing like work. By the time we arrived in Cabo they’d invited me to go out fishing with them. Having enjoyed deep-sea fishing in the past, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

My hotel was in the same vicinity as the marina, so I trekked on down to the boat at 6:45 a.m. ready for a seven o’clock launch. The yacht was very much a fishing boat but with all the amenities of a luxury liner. We set off right on time in search of big fish. After we had been out for a while, all of the sudden all the rods started to scream at the same time. It seems
we had trolled right into a school of tuna and they were everywhere, the guys couldn’t catch them fast enough. They were almost jumping in the boat, no reel required. Someone stuck a rod in my hand and I tried to remember when to reel in and all that. After a very quick refresher lesson, I caught a tuna as well. The deck hands began to fillet the tuna, they put some on a plate and we ate it right there—now that’s fresh fish! We ended up catching over ten tuna, two Dorado (mahi-mahi) and a roosterfish. No marlin, but still some serious bragging rights!

After awhile I headed up to the front of the boat and sat on the gang plank to watch in amazement the flying fish that were leaping out of the water all over the place. Then a couple of stingrays showed up. Then dolphins made an appearance. They swam and jumped all around me; they like to ride the wake at the bow of the boat. I swear they were smiling at me while they were jumping and twirling.

On the way back into the marina, the captain asked me if I wanted to pilot the boat. Are you kidding? I want to drive
everything. He gave me a short lesson on what to do which wasn’t much other than “head for the arch.” I sat on the bridge feeling all sure of myself because I was indeed heading straight for the arch, turning that wheel like a seasoned captain. I did notice it took the boat awhile to “come about” when I turned the gigantic wheel. When I mentioned this to the guys, a few of them began to snicker explaining that the boat was so big that it was normal for it to turn slowly. “Okay.” I bought that and continued on my merry way as chief commanding officer.

When we were closing in on the arch, the skipper said he would have to take over as we were coming in close proximity to the beach and other yachts. So I gave up the wheel and all the guys told me what a great job I did. Then they broke out into chuckles that escalated into hearty laughter, hysterical laughter, thigh-slapping laughter. I was puzzled. “What the hell is so dang funny?” And then they confessed the boat was on autopilot the whole way—the morons.

Caracas, Venezuela to Imperial Palace, Japan

One day after flying my passengers to Caracas, Venezuela and having a lovely layover there, we headed to Narita, Japan, with a stop in Washington, DC, for a meeting. Four hours later my passengers re-boarded for the flight back to Japan. We stopped in Anchorage where we got fuel and changed pilots. As usual, I stayed with the passengers. When we finally arrived at the Imperial Palace in Japan, I was dead tired and cranky. I had been up for almost two days and on my feet for much of the time.

When I opened my hotel room door to discover a Japanese room instead of a “Western” room it sent me over the edge. I stood in my room freaking out! I had a futon instead of a mattress and after the day I’d just conquered, I damn well deserved at least a stupid bed! One of my pilots, hearing my hysteria, came to my room. He calmed me down, pulled a beer out of the little refrigerator and made me guzzle it. Then he ordered me into the bathroom to change into my pajamas. That’s when I noticed I didn’t have a shower but a strange looking can
of a bathtub-like thing. I guess you sit in it like a toilet only with water and you don’t pee. When I emerged, he instructed me to lie down on the futon, and I passed out—for an entire day.

On that same trip, someone had decided we needed to see a Geisha house. I knew what a Geisha was, sort of, but I had no idea what to expect. We all sat down cross-legged on pillows behind this long counter-like table with a small stage in front of us. The Geisha girls came out one at a time and began an elaborate tea ceremony of sorts and when they finally finished, they sat there looking at us.

It was odd because I stared at them more than they stared at me. I thought to myself,
All that white makeup, isn’t that bad for your skin? Does that costume Velcro on or do you have to go through all the crap night after night to get it on? Is that a wig or your real hair? And how can you possibly walk in those shoes? Don’t your feet hurt? I mean, mine do and I don’t have to wear those kind of weird shoes!

After the tea ceremony, they got up and did this graceful,
probably traditional dance. It seemed like they were telling a story although I have no idea what any of it meant, or if it was supposed to mean anything! I don’t think that women were normally permitted inside, as guests anyway, because there was not a ladies’ restroom. I was relieved to leave. I later learned much more about geishas and how their dance can mean many different things depending on who is performing; there are many misconceptions that date back centuries.

Like this trip hadn’t enough drama in it, I decided to go rollerblading. I used to bring my rollerblades everywhere I went. I loved to rollerblade and still do. When I was truly bored, I could always put on my rollerblades and take off, get a little exercise and enjoy the scenery. I had convinced one of my favorite pilots to go rollerblading with me whenever we flew together. Since we were staying at the Imperial Palace Hotel, we decided to head across the street to the Imperial Palace and go rollerblading there. It had lavish spacious gardens and beautiful long concrete paths, the perfect place.

Uh-oh—not so perfect. The Imperial Palace gardens are sacred and apparently we were destroying that sanction. They were extremely displeased by our choice in desecrating their holy area. I’m certain we would have been arrested or whatever they do to you for a discretion of this nature, but we started fast-talking about who our employer was. I certainly learned a lesson here. Like I said earlier in this chapter, cultural differences can be challenging.

Juneau, Alaska

Another time when I was very happy at home, absorbing the beach and everything it had to offer, I was called for a ten-day flight to Juneau, Alaska. Since it was mid-summer I figured the passengers were going on an Alaskan cruise. I never really knew what the passengers were doing unless they offered up an explanation during the flight. If they were on a cruise that meant the flight crew had the other eight days off—a fantastic layover.

It was an uneventful flight to Juneau, and I learned that the passengers were indeed going on a cruise. We checked into
the only decent hotel in Juneau (at least at that time) and began exploring. What were we to do with ourselves for eight days? We decided that we really should see a glacier and some bears or eagles or something, since we were in such close proximity. We learned that to enjoy the best experience we needed to get closer to the actual glaciers. What we would have liked to do was fly our jet to another airport. Although we entertained this idea for a minute, maybe two, for obvious reasons we ditched it. That’s when we decided to charter our own little plane!

Ha! What a brainstorm! After we made all the necessary arrangements, we headed back to the airport and climbed inside this cozy little six-seat Cessna 206. It was a turbulent but thoroughly enjoyable flight to a small town named Gustavus, closer to the glaciers. The view from that little airplane was incredible and the natural beauty of the terrain mesmerized me. We took a taxi from the airport to the wharf where we boarded a day boat to take us and maybe fifty or so other people to get up close and personal with a glacier.

If you’ve never seen a glacier “calve,” put it on your bucket list, because it is spectacular. The ice is shimmering blue, which I think has to do with the absorption of light in thick dense ice, but I’m clearly not a scientist so don’t quote me. When it “calves” or a piece breaks off, the sound is undeniable. It’s like thunder, like thunder all around you. Depending on how large the chunk that falls in the water, the resulting spray can shoot upwards twice as high as the glacier. It’s Mother Nature roaring with power and supremacy. It is a sight that will definitely hold you in reverence of natural beauty, even if you’re freezing your arse off. All around us was something to see; little baby sea lions floating around on bits and pieces of glacier ice, momma bears with cubs playing by the edge of the sea, and bald eagles in giant trees (hard to see, but with binoculars definitely a sight to behold).

After a truly invigorating day, we turned and began our journey back to the wharf. Then the weather changed. The sky became dark and the wind began howling and it was cold, really
cold, bone-chilling cold. By the time we made our way to the wharf, it was apparent we were not getting back to Juneau that afternoon. We weren’t alone, when the weather comes in, in Alaska, you hold tight. So without options that’s what we did. The only hotel was completely full and we ended up hanging out in the lobby with many other people. I spent the entire time panicked that the passengers were going to call and want to leave early which would have been impossible because we were stuck in a teeny little town without our jet. As soon as we had a small window of good weather, we left in a hurry.